The sea, the clouds, the rain.
He knows where whales will bubble-feed,
And when they’ll come again.
I’ve seen him do so many things,
The list could have no end;
But nothing else can top the day
He whistled down the wind.
He stood out on the back deck rail
And whistled, sharp and shrill,
He threw the salmon scraps aloft
And everything grew still
For silently, on night black wings,
Both head and tail a’ gleam,
The wind incarnate fell to earth;
And then I heard it scream.
It lingered but a moment there,
Where land and sea both end,
And left me awed beside the man
Who’d whistled down the wind.
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